Happy 11th birthday Colton Godfrey
Another year has gone by. And like those that came before, you certainly made the most of it. How best to commemorate such an epic year? How about a 4,500 word tome to the last 12 months.
And away we go!
Rock Star:
It only took 2 days into your 4th grade year to achieve “Rockstar” status at school. I have no idea why this honor is given, or what the criteria are, or how the selection is made. But if someone told me they were going to bestow Rockstar designation on one kid per class, the smart money would be on you.
We’re now seven full days into 5th grade, and still no Rockstar award? Yer’ slippin’ kid.
Speaking of “how the hell did you win that award?”…
Top Banana:
For Halloween, you, your brother, and seemingly everyone else we know decided to dress as a banana. Yet when the award is handed out for “best costume”, you end up with the trophy. Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up.
The irony of you wearing the exact same costume as several of your friends and being the only one to win a trophy can’t be glossed over. You and trophies are like me and injuries — unavoidable.
Speaking of trophies…
Next Level Basketball
As returning champions, you had a target on your chest. And half your team missed at least half the games due to conflicts with Feds baseball. In some cases you needed to recruit Camden and a buddy or two just to avoid a forfeit.
None of it mattered.
You breezed through the season and the semifinals, winning every game by double-digits. In the championship we shot about 10% as a team in the first half, and led “only” 14–10 at the break. You were involved in roughly 87 contested balls and spent more time on the floor than on your feet. It was the most aggressive game I’ve seen at this level as the ref swallowed his whistle and let you guys beat the hell out of each other for 40 minutes. In the end it wasn’t particularly close and you hoisted your 2nd straight NL Basketball trophy.
It was a nice way to end it as we put NL basketball in the rearview mirror. Time to give some other team a chance.
That other fall sport:
Along with NL Basketball, you joined an SLU fall baseball team. The season never really came together as you played only a couple scrimmages and one tournament, but you got some valuable reps at practice.
You pointed out that a lot of the baseball stuff overlapped with NFL football (batting cages on Monday night, a pitching lesson on Thursday). You LOVE watching football (mostly for fantasy purposes), but you didn’t whine or complain, or ask to quit baseball activities. You just made a note of it.
It demonstrates maturity to understand and accept that sacrifices are necessary. And it shows your growing appreciation of the work needed to become a better player, and your willingness to put in that work.
Speaking of maturity…
Tact:
Kids have this nasty habit of saying whatever they’re thinking, with no regard for how it might be taken. You’re old enough now to realize that sometimes you have to couch your words. But you’re also young enough that you aren’t quite a pro at it yet.
You’ll frequently begin a critical statement with “No offense, but” as if those three words absolve you of any hurt feelings from whatever follows. As an example, I like to build elaborate holiday decorations. I created a 14ft spider for halloween (which even you admitted was pretty awesome), and tried to follow it up with an 8ft light-up snowman built from chickenwire that didn’t in any way look like something out a bad claymation Christmas horror film.
Even before it ‘melted’, your take was something along the lines of “No offense, but that snowman kinda sucks.” Which, it’s not like I spent several hours and way too much money building it or anything.
You also like to point out that “No offense, but the Seahawks are terrible.” (true) and “No offense, but your jokes aren’t funny.” (totally untrue) and “No offense, but you’re probably not the single most handsome person in the world, but I suspect you are very, very close.” (fair enough).
Speaking of Christmas…
The greatest gift…EVER!:
For years you’ve been asking for a video game system, and for years I’ve been saying “Here’s an NES Classic!” and for years you’ve been rolling your eyes and implying that NES doesn’t really count because “No offense, but that system is trash”. And so for years you’ve been just basically living at the Gordon’s house and playing on their PS5 and not use their amazing batting cage and Jason’s elite coaching that comes with it.
Anyway, with a little luck I was able to procure a coveted PS5 just in time for Christmas. It was a surprise gift that not even Mom knew about (I was afraid she’d veto — you’re welcome). And it arrived just in time as the Gordons had some covid scares and you would have experienced some serious Madden withdrawals.
BTW, you also got an Apple Watch for Christmas. When an Apple Watch isn’t the best gift, you life is pretty amazing. Not as amazing as my jokes, but pretty damn amazing nonetheless.
No offense, but that was awful!
We had a 14 hour drive to Lake Tahoe. 14 hours! We got out of the car twice. Once to get gas, and the other to take a family pee break…on the side of the road…in a snowstorm. It was apparently too cold for you, so you held it for 14 hours. Which either means you have some serious willpower, or were seriously dehydrated. Or maybe a bit of both. Regardless, you maintained a great attitude throughout the drive — looking on the bright side whenever we were stopped or creeping along (which was most of the time). As noted earlier, you’re becoming very mature.
We skied a few days at Donner and you made the most of it. After a couple green runs, you beelined for the blue and never looked back. You even took a few runs on Donner’s version of a black — plenty wide, but also plenty steep. And you looked great doing it — connecting turns, keeping your speed. And as a further sign of how you’re growing up, you even rode a chairlift by yourself to try and catch up with Cam and me. Of course Cam had bolted full-speed down the hill, so you ended up skiing the run solo anyway.
NJB Basketball:
Next Level basketball was fun, but you were ready for something a bit more structured. Desmond’s dad recommended Redwood City-based NJB. It’s kinda like little league — kids try out, everyone makes a team, and at the end of the season there’s an all-star tournament where you play against other leagues.
We knew only a few kids, so you were excited to land on Desmond’s team. The first practice was frustrating because the coach wouldn’t let you steal and forced everyone to make at least 4 passes before shooting. The horror! Eventually the rules loosened, and you started enjoying it a lot more.
You lost only 1 game, with an additional close scare against Sam’s team. Up 14 heading into the 5th quarter (yes, they play 5 “quarters”), they applied the press, which led to steals. And they fed Sam, which led to easy buckets. With the lead down to 4 they subbed you in and the bleeding stopped. You broke the press and slowed down Sam just enough.
You won the regular season and playoff championship. But best of all was being added to the all-star team with Sam and Desmond. And another bonus — your coach’s company developed a basketball training app and asked you to be in the video advert they created. Your life dream has always to been to become an internet star, so I guess this is a good first step
In the all-star tournament you lost a hard-fought championship game to Gilroy by three points. This earned you a spot in the “National” tournament in LA. Sam wasn’t there (broken wrist), and his absence was felt. You lost by two points in the first game to the eventual runner up, and then by double-digits to the eventual champion. That put us in the Silver bracket “championship”.
We looked flat for almost the entire game, before turning it around at the end. Here’s how it played out:
- Down 35–34, you get fouled with 1:03 left to play.
- You calmly sink both ends of the 1-and-1. Up 36–35
- Applying the press, you steal the ball and pass to Austin who is fouled. He hits the first, misses the second, but we rebound and score another bucket to go up 39–35.
- You make one final steal and hit the breakaway layup to put the game out of reach.
Crazy final minute, and a nice to go out on a high note and earn the Silver Bracket Champion medal.
I wasn’t surprised at how you played on the court — your hustle, energy, and court vision predictably lead to steals and easy buckets. And I was equally unsurprised that you usually sat in the “player-coach” spot between the two actual coaches. And least surprising of all the unsurprising things was when you were bestowed the “3rd Coach” award. Jason and Larry would no doubt approve.
Gamblin’ man:
You told me one that that NFL lines seemed “way off”, so I encouraged you to pick the remaining 13 games (against the spread) for that week. My prediction was that you’d get about half right, and that if you did it for a full season you’d end up almost exactly 50/50.
So how’d you do? Well…You got two correct. Out of 13. Two. 15%. Almost the exact opposite of a perfect parlay. So…no offense, but those have to be some of the worst bets ever.
You gave up after that. Hopefully this will scare you away from gambling.
Speaking of gambling…
Fantasy Football:
You love fantasy football. The sports connection. The strategy. The competition. The excuse to watch sports analysis programs for hours on end. You join as many leagues as you can, and spend way too much time thinking about who to draft, followed by a high-frequency trading scheme based on a “quantity over quality” mantra.
When it goes right, no one is happier. But when it all comes crashing down, you crash with it. After the last week of the season, something went screwy that caused a bunch of previous game scores to get altered. Which affected your playoff seeding. Or maybe whether you even made the playoffs? Not important. What was is important is that you lost your mind. And what is really important is that it turned out to be your own doing.
Inexplicably you were an admin in the league (Larry?). You thought you were suggesting scoring changes for future seasons, but you were actually changing the scoring logic. Retroactively. For all the games. Larry got it cleaned up. And everyone went back to the way it was. But what a scare.
No offense, but you really screwed that one up.
Foot health:
I casually mentioned once how I wished my feet weren’t these horribly crippled misshapen atrocities, and that, possibly related, I can’t spread my toes apart. I guess you took this as a challenge to make your toes the most spreadable, and created a nightly (and more) ritual where you’d interlace your toes. I’ll just leave these photos here and then we can move on.
Flag Football:
After years of begging, Jason relented and finally give you a chance to play QB. Sort of. I’m not sure if he saw an opportunity, or was just worn down from years of unsolicited advice and suggestions on how best to run our two-time defending championship football team. Either way, you got your shot.
On most plays, someone else would take the snap and then lateral the ball to you. This gave you a run-pass option, but also allowed the defense to blitz at-will.
On the first play of the first game, the entire defense turned and ran back into coverage, so you sprinted and weaved your way 40 yards for the TD. We led 28–0 at the half and it got uglier from there — helped in part by your nifty pick-six on defense. Next week, pretty much the same story and another blowout.
Your quest for the illustrious three-peat was looking good. Until you ran into Sam’s team in week three, losing a heartbreaker 21–20 after lots of several opportunities. You were so stressed after the game, seemingly unable to come to grips with the fact that your team was, in fact, fallible. Cam summed it up best when he said “you just don’t know how to lose!” Which I guess is nicer than “No offense, but you suck at losing.”
You got back on the track in the 4th game against Matthew’s team. You threw for 3 TDs and ran for zero, dispelling the notion that you’re merely a running QB.
In the championship game, you went toe-to-toe with Jagger, and even held a slight 19–18 lead at halftime. But it wasn’t to be as you ultimately fell 33–26. Still a very successful season, and you got to play QB, had a ton of fun, and were (hopefully) excited for your buddy Jagger and his team to win a much deserved championship.
But even on a day when you lose, you still win. You had a pizza party that evening for your NJB Basketball team, and your coach gave out trophies for the league championship. All on the same day that Camden won his first ever NL trophy. No offense but, can’t ever let him have his moment!
A baseball’s revenge:
We went to a little league event at a Stanford baseball game. It was great. Lots of friends from the league were there, and it was a pretty exciting game. And it became even more exciting when, as you wandered innocently in the bleachers, a stray foul ball struck you in the leg.
One could make a joke about how you’ve spent the last several years clobbering balls and what goes around comes around. Or how it’s usually you running into inanimate objects, not the other way around. But let’s instead just enjoy the irony that you spend every moment of every pro game we’ve ever been to praying for a fall ball to be hit to you, and the one time you aren’t paying attention, the ball finds you.
When Cam found our you were hit, his immediate concern was “did you get the ball?” As a matter of fact*, you did. You pretty much always do.
* Or possibly some other game ball they dug up. It’s not totally clear.
Since we’re talking about baseball…
Big League Dreams:
This was your first year playing majors in little league. It was a tough start with no hits for the first four games. But then it clicked. You went 3–3 in a game, then 2–4 over the next couple (with a handful of walks to boot). This proficiency led to you being bumped into the cleanup spot for a few games. Only in little league!
You pitched in a few games, and mostly threw strikes which were mostly hit to players who mostly struggled a bit with errors and led to mostly a bunch of unearned runs. That’s actually sort of how our Red Sox season went. But it was a great group of kids with excellent coaches. You had fun and learned a ton. Successful season.
Successful that is, until the playoffs…
SMLLA Playoffs:
Playoffs started Saturday, May 21st. On Friday night you took a routine covid test in preparation for your forthcoming overnight fieldtrip on Monday. The test was positive. So you took another. Also positive. You were devastated. And soon you were also lonely when we stuck you in spare room by yourself.
The Red Sox lost 2–1. Season over. You wondered if you could have made the difference. Gut punch .You were inconsolable. Until you realized that covid isolation meant sitting alone in Grandma’s room playing video games and watching iPad.
I joined you 3 days later. You tried to teach me Madden, and The Show, but it was just too complicated. Even in the golf game, which wasn’t complicated, I couldn’t compete.
“No offense dad, but you suck at video games.” None taken.
Cam and Clara were pretty jealous, since all they could think about was you on an iPad all day. But Clara was also very sad. She wrote you notes, and missed you so much that she slept with your picture by her bedside.
And truth be told, you missed them too. We went for a walk just to get you out of the house, and commenting on the burden of isolation, you said “It’s really weird not being able to tackle Cam. Sometimes you just need to tackle something.” Which is obviously your way of saying “I miss my brother.”
No offense, but that’s maybe the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard you say about your brother.
More baseball stuff:
We need to move along, so we’re going to cover the four (!!!) remaining baseball items in rapid-fire:
District 11s All-Stars:
You managed to win the championship in your only warm-up tourney (Burlingame), but unfortunately things didn’t tip your way in the district tourney and it was 2 and out. The highlight for you was an amazing diving catch in center, along with an amazing diving almost catch in the same game. Your season over, you lived vicariously through the 10s and 12 who both made deep runs. We watched on GameChanger and live streams, and you actually went to Turlock to watch the 10s and to Watsonville to watch the 12s. That’s some dedication!
West Coast Federals:
You tried out for the Feds and found a spot on their Red team. This will guarantee you not only top-caliber training, but also 8 tournaments over the fall. We’ll be doing a lot of driving to Manteca and beyond, but it’ll be worth it. Pretty sure. Especially the Vegas tourney!
Whiffle:
Almost all the time you spend in the Gordon’s cage involves a whiffle ball. You have a favorite ball is that scuffed up exactly how you want, and you pride yourself on curving it accurately in multiple different directions. I’ve been suggesting that you should be careful, and after you experienced elbow pain at a recent Feds workout, coach Stone dropped the hammer. No more whiffle! A compromise was reached — you can keeping throwing whiffles, but only with your left arm. Your right arm belongs to him now. Challenge accepted!
Umpiring:
As a “baseball 11", you were finally old enough to umpire for the first time. The only size umpire shirt remaining was an adult medium and it was MASSIVE.
Thankfully, the oversized front pocket made for a perfect pouch for holding pretzels and whatever other snacks you’d need to get through the brutally boring single-A games. Along with the satisfaction that comes from an honest 1/4 day’s work, you also earned enough money to by “MLB The Show” for your PS5. Because you don’t already have enough baseball or video games in your life…
Opposite of baseball:
Your extracurriculars are pretty much all sports. Except for the math and piano stuff that we force on you. So it was a bit of a shock when you indicated that you wanted to do a theater camp over spring break. For a week you went to a playhouse-ish warehousey type place and collaborated with other kids to create a play (and, bizzarely, to compete in a cardboard fort building competition).
You enjoyed the writing, costume design and planning, but did not love being in the actual play itself. Apparently performing on stage for possibly tens of highly noncritical parents is much more stressful than playing sports in front of 100+ psychotically crazed parents who think their child’s entire future rests on the outcome of blown strike call or missed flag pull.
You indicated that you’d like to do this play camp again next year, but only if you can be a “behind the scenes guy.” We’ll see.
More Basketball:
Sticking with the camp theme, one of the new options we tried this summer was Warriors Basketball Camp. It was a no brainer, checking every box for a great camp option. Sports-themed? Check! Nearby location? Check! Long hours? Double check!!
It was an absolute zoo. 10 pods of 15–20 kids aged 8–14 crammed into just two gyms. But the crew running the camp had it under control, and both you and Cam gave it a thumbs up. Especially after the awards ceremony. In your age group you won the 3x3 championship, 1x1 championship, and the “Hustle Award” (shocker!). Apparently you’d have won the 2x2 as well, if not for a “scoring issue”
Nothing motivates like the promise of cheap swag that will be forgotten within 48 hours. Where is that warriors viewfinder thingy now? Exactly.
Just one more baseball thing:
This will be quick, I promise. An actual conversation from earlier this summer:
You: “Dad?”
Me: “What’s up?”
You: “I think if I hit a ball just right, I could hit a home run”
Me: “Oh Yeah?”
You: “Yeah. Like if I swing hard and hit the sweet spot, I feel like I could hit it out.”
Me: “OK”
Next day after triple H camp, I get the following text message from you
Touché.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you believe in yourself. Almost as amazing as the precision with which you were able to measure the home run distance.
Footwear:
You’ve always been very hard on shoes — running tread down flat, busting seams and wearing through even the top layer. Recently I noticed that several of your socks were developing large holes in a consistent spot. When I inquired as to the possible cause, you casually mentioned that “my shoe has a hole in it”, which, of course it does. And through my rigorous powers of inspection, I was able to identify the silver-dollar-sized hole that ensured your big toe would scrape across the ground with every change of direction.
No offense, but just once would be great to have you outgrow a pair of shoes before they disintegrate.
Grandma!
Before covid we used to spend 7–10 days in Seattle every summer visiting Grandma. And thankfully, we got that trip back on track this year! Rather than drag you guys around to zoos and aquariums and the like, we catered this trip around your unique desire to simply run around like crazy people. First off — outdoor water activities like slip and slide and water “fights” (literally) with Cam.
Next, Catapult Adventure Park. A huge indoor play area (think Rock N’ Jump on steroids) that included an indoor tubing jump. You, Cam and Clara made countless trips down the ramp, wetting the bottom of tube to increase speed and challenging yourself to fly higher and strike poses mid-air.
You begged to go back another day, but the calendar was full. Because the next stop was an overnight stay at the Great Wolf Lodge!
Apparently Grandma’s backyard water antics were just a warmup for the real thing. We dabbled in the other activities like the wizard quest thingy (pretty lame and soooooo long) and the mirror maze (lame but mercifully short). But this place was all about the water slides and wave pool.
On the second day you and Cam left breakfast early to ensure you’d be first in line, and then lapped all the big slides over and over and over again. You even convinced Grandma to get in on the fun!
The water park and adventure park were the highlights. But for me, it’s all about spending time with Grandma, Uncle Brian, and the handful of relatives who gather whenever we come in town. Try not to forget those moments.
Ama! A-Gong! And Cousins and Aunts and Uncles!:
Seeing Mom’s family is yet another thing that mostly stopped due to covid. We got to visit them just before your last birthday, and then followed that up by seeing everyone (except Auntie Jennifer) over Thanksgiving.
We hit up some museums, ate delicious food, and probably drove Ama and A-Gong just a little bit crazy by overrunning their condo every day. You and I even ran the Turkey Day 5k with Uncle Shane, Auntie Elizabeth, and Cousin Tess. It was way too early and way too freezing cold, but when you get to run along Seahawks Drive, everything is a-ok.
Then, this summer, we met up with all the cousins again in beautiful Chicago! We did the Tilt (meh), the Skydeck (better, but still kinda meh), ate Chicago-style pizza (delicious, but you’re all like “meh”) and even went to a Cubs game. 2.5 hours to play 6 scoreless innings? Super-meh. But you did get a ball (of course) and the stadium was awesome.
But somehow the best part (besides seeing family) was when our return flight got delayed for 9 hours and we dragged you kicking and screaming to the Museum of Science and Industry. Which was AWESOME! We were there for 3 hours and could’ve easily stayed twice as long. It was like CuriOdyssey times a thousand, but if CuriOdyssey also had an actual German U-Boat that was captured during WWII.
No offense, but this is why we don’t listen to you guys when you say you don’t want to do something.
Nighttime ritual:
Every night, around 8:30–9pm some combination of Mom and/or I put you and your siblings to bed. And every night, about 20–30 minutes later, we’ll hear some tapping on the wall. This is your signal for “please come up here.” It could be that you want to tell us that it’s too hot in your room. Or that something is itchy. Or you’d like more water. Or someone is snoring.
But usually it means you’re done reading and want someone to come say goodnight. This might be Mom’s favorite part of the day, and I think she’ll be pretty sad when eventually, inevitably, the knocking stops. Don’t grow up too fast buddy.
There’s a million other things I could write about. From watermelon eating races with Carter, to your stuffies, to your maybe-somewhat rational fear that playing golf might mess up your baseball swing. How you and Camden are thick as thieves and the perfect foil to one another. How you complain about Clara one minute, and then teach her how to pull flags the next. About your intellectual curiosity that knows no bounds, even prompting some to refer to you as “the modern Einstein”
You’re as unique as they come, with both a brain and a body that never stop. Keep being you, and I’ll just keep trying to keep up. I love you son. Happy birthday.
